


A Life of Kleptomania

by ConnorsCorner



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anthropomorphic, Dieselpunk, Fantasy, Gen, Original Fiction, Redemption, Temporary Amnesia, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 00:55:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17777483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConnorsCorner/pseuds/ConnorsCorner
Summary: A lifelong thief finally gets whats coming to him and through the grace of those who help him in his time of need, tries to turn a new leaf.





	A Life of Kleptomania

     Art had finally been bested. His streak of gaining and gaining had finally been put to rest. Of course the one day he decided to go on land to trade, his victims had banded together and ambushed him. Luckily, due to his natural ability to heal quickly, their murderous intentions had only left him mortally wounded. No matter. He'd only be there for... 3 days at best if it rained soon.  Both of his legs were broken and he thought a bullet entered his head and came out the other side. That was probably why his memory of the whole ordeal was so fuzzy and scattered.

     He looked over to the orange dirt road and could just barely hear the port he had just traveled out of. He didn't have a family so nobody was waiting for him or worried about him. Art attempted to pick himself up and splint his legs so they wouldn't heal funny. He broke off a piece of the wagon and tied it to his short legs and tried to crawl off the road.

     As he was crawling, he noticed a gold coin that the attackers had overlooked. The coin glistened in the bright, taunting sun as if to say "Take me!" As he was crawling towards the coin, he felt the ground shake. The air began to smell of alcohol and oil. A joyous and savage sound echoed over the hills. He knew how much trouble he was in but... he could scam his way up again with that coin. As the sound and smell became more pungent, he knew he had to get off the road or get run over, so he crawled off the road just in time for the gang to see him. A gang of human bikers... Art prepared for the worst he could imagine as they slowed down to a stop next to him. The Giant in front stood up, got off his low-rider, and stomped over to Art.

     "What's wrong slimy?" The Giant asked sarcastically. While art normally had slime due to his amphibious nature, he was dehydrated. The giant bellowed a laugh into the vibrant, blue, sky. "Why you lookin' for water in the middle of the desert, gills?" Art was taken aback by the slur but he didn't want to anger The Giant by talking back.

     Art's glance at the coin caught The Giant's eye. "You're crippled an' all you can think of is money? You Axolotls are always lookin' for ways to make a quick buck, even at the cost of your life or another's." Art fit the stereotype of his species perfectly, but of all things to be, wealthy is better than morally pure in his mind. The Giant stomped over to where the coin glistened, pocketed the coin, then walked over to his low-rider, which looked as old and tattered as The Giant himself. The Giant stomped back over to Art with a greasy, old canvas bag. He threw out a glass jug of water to Art. "Consider that coin as payment."

     Art gave a sarcastic and long-winded "Thanks."

     The Giant gave a scornful and angry expression, then spat at the ground in front of Art. The Giant got back on his bike. "You should really figure out what it is you need, rather than what you want," The Giant said. He revved his engine and rode away with his gang leaving a cloud of exhaust and dust behind them.

     Art pondered what The Giant said for a moment but pushed it into the back of his mind. He took the jug of water and poured it over his dry and sticky skin. Its surprisingly cold touch, combined with the purity of the water made him shudder just a bit and felt his legs begin to heal a bit faster as he finished off the water by drinking it. A few minutes later, he felt like he could at least stand. He used another piece of his wagon as a temporary crutch and began to walk back to the port to steal a motorcycle or a wagon to start rebuilding his wealth. As he hobbled towards the port and the city surrounding it, each step getting stronger, the road began the shake again. He hobbled out of the way once again as a motorcycle pulled up next to him, pulling a trailer that looked too large for the little motor to handle. Two Axolotls, like him, both in purple and red attire, were riding the smaller bike. Seeing Art in his condition, they offered him a ride to the city surrounding the port. Art happily agreed. On the way, he noticed that the two Axolotls driving were a married couple and that the woman was carrying a sack of her eggs in her lap. He didn't know why but that put a smile on his face. He could've robbed them blind rather easily. In fact, it would be a rather profitable endeavor as only nobility can afford purple and red clothes. Once the kind couple dropped him off, he wondered to himself if he were developing a conscience. He shuddered at the thought.

     The ride to the city was quite slow with Art's added weight to the couple's already heavy load and night was setting in, so Art went into a local inn to try and hustle a room. On his way in, he saw his ticket to a new life. By new, he meant wealthy: a sparkling, new, and fashionable motorcycle just sitting outside the inn. As he contemplated taking the bike, he thought he saw someone watching him so he kept his hands to himself... for now. He headed inside to begin his hustle, but instead was greeted by a woman. The woman, who appeared to be the innkeeper, was wearing tattered clothes and a work-hardened look, with a young girl clinging to her side. Art began his offer without introducing himself, offering work or something of the sort in exchange for a room. Before he could even finish his offer, the woman offered him a room for free. He asked why, to which the woman reminded Art of his injuries. Little did she know that these injuries were from nothing but Art's past mistakes catching up with him and exacting revenge. Art was not used to these kind gestures. Art then realized that they'd been happening all day and he had no idea why. Maybe his injury? Maybe it was his "unmatched charisma" as he might put it? Art was humbled by the woman's kind offer and told her he was in debt to her. The woman just smiled and said in a strong voice, "Just clean up the room and make the bed when you're done with it." Art thanked her and went into the room nearest to the door. As he was getting ready for bed, something came to his head. The words of The Giant resurfaced in his mind. Did he really need that gold piece in the road? More importantly, did he need that bike sitting out in front, screaming to be stolen? He decided to sleep on the decision. Hopefully the bike would still be there when he woke up in case he decided what he "needed".

     When Art woke up the next morning, he immediately checked out the window to see if the bike was still there. Sure enough, it was. He got dressed in his usual blue attire. A rip had formed in the left shoulder pad. Art realized something that morning. He realized that all of his baggage of the past had gone with the return of the goods to their rightful owners. He could start anew. But, a lifetime of crime is a rather difficult habit to break. Putting one freshly healed leg in front of the other, he headed back out to the hall of the inn where the woman greeted him. Art asked whose bike was out in front. The woman explained that it was a gift for her son, who finally was able to go to college, and how she could barely afford it. She remarked about how she wished she had time to deliver it to her son. Art pondered the words of The Giant one last time. He needed to help this woman, more than he wanted to steal the bike for his own gain. Art offered to take the bike to her son as payment for the room. The woman, not knowing Art's past, happily agreed to the arrangement, as the college was in the city. The woman gave Art the keys and the address. Art quickly got on the prestigious bike and rode to the address.

     As Art's arm extended to the door to knock, he hesitated for a moment. Could he really leave behind his old life and start over? He wondered how much of his brain went with that bullet to make him hesitate like this. He looked down at the bike, that beautiful, new, and valuable bike, and then back at the door. He thought about the strangers who helped him along his way, gave him another chance at life, and he was not about to waste it making others miserable again. Art sighed to himself, fully knowing the opportunity he was letting go, and knocked on the door in as cheerful a way he could.


End file.
